Plank You Very Much
Pairing: Reader x Cassian
Summary: Cassian gets roped into a Pilates class by you—and quickly realizes he’s in way over his head.
original request
Warnings: nothing tbh, cocky cassian being humbled, his fun lil internal thoughts
Word Count: 1.4k
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This was a horrible, stupid decision, Cassian realized.
He’d probably tell his kids about this someday, label it as one of his top twenty worst moments—and for the Lord of Bloodshed, that meant something.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been coaxed into something ridiculous. He wasn’t proud of that. But usually, those bad ideas involved Cassian yelling “I’m in.” before anyone could talk him out of it, not… this. Not kneeling on a yoga mat in a room that smelled like lavender and sweat, surrounded by people half his size who apparently had spines made of liquid steel.
The incense burning clung to the air, all flowery and relentless, tickling his nose in a way that made his nostrils flare with the urge to sneeze—an urge that hovered just out of reach, enough to drive him mad. Gods, he thought his allergies were bad in the Spring Court. This was worse. At least in the Spring Court, he wasn’t expected to twist himself into a pretzel while being assaulted by fragrant warfare.
He didn’t know what had possessed him to agree to this.
Well, okay, he did know. It was you.
With that damn mischievous smile and the way you’d batted your lashes at him, like you knew he wouldn’t say no. You’d done it on purpose.
“Oh yeah?”
Your voice had been as sweet as poison after he’d made a very ill-advised joke about Pilates not being “that serious.” All because you’d complained—just once—about being sore from a class. He’d grinned, all cocky charm, and drawled something like, “How hard can it be?”
He’d meant it as flirting, a way to make you laugh, but he should’ve known better. You and that damn spiteful streak.
“Come with me, then,” you’d said, tilting your head in that way you always did when you were trying to be convincing. “Unless, of course, you think it’s too hard for you, big guy.”
You might as well have stabbed him in his pride.
“We both know that’s not true.” Cassian had shot back, grinning like the cocky idiot he was. He’d even flexed a little as he’d said it, lounging against the counter with all the confidence in the world. “Bet I could do it no problem.”
Because Pilates? It didn’t even sound hard. A bunch of stretching, maybe some light balancing. Easyyy. He could do this in his sleep. He’d been fighting in wars since before most of these people were born, for Cauldron’s sake. His muscles were made of steel. His body was a weapon.
You’d grinned at him like a predator scenting blood, and he’d known, deep down, that he was screwed. “Alright,” you’d said, voice a little too sweet. “Tomorrow morning.”
He really needed you to spend less time with Mor and Azriel. Their sass and competitive streak had clearly rubbed off on you, and the result was downright dangerous. It was also, much to his frustration, ridiculously attractive. He fell for it every single time.
And now, every muscle in his body was actively trying to kill him. He was sure of it.
To make matters worse, he’d made yet another critical error at the start of class. Everyone else had grabbed the pastel three-pound weights that looked more like props than actual workout equipment. But Cassian had gone straight for the twenty-pound dumbbells.
“Really?” you’d said, your tone half amused, half incredulous.
“Three pounds are basically paperweights,” he’d replied, doing a quick curl with one arm to prove his point. The weights had felt fine then.
That didn't last long.
You'd even given him a knowing smile, one that probably should’ve warned him. But Cassian, in all his infinite wisdom and bravado, didn’t back down.
Halfway through the warm-up, his arms were trembling. Trembling. The weights that had felt so manageable had dragged his shoulders into a slow, humiliating burn.
Now, those same arms quivered as he attempted to hold the plank position for what felt like the fiftieth time in as many minutes. His shoulders burned, his thighs screamed, and sweat poured down his face in rivers. His hair was plastered to his forehead in a way that was more disgusting than it was ruggedly sexy. The surrounding mirrors of the room confirmed so.
“Engage your core!” the instructor chirped, her voice far too cheerful for someone overseeing torture. She walked by him like a predator looking for weaknesses, sparing him a sympathetic yet clearly entertained glance. She didn’t bother helping him.
He wasn’t sure where his core even was anymore. It might have abandoned him somewhere around the second round of something called “boat pose,” which had made his abs cramp in places he didn’t even know existed. He fucking hated boats.
“Hold that plank,” the instructor trilled. “Focus on your breath.”
Focus on his breath? Cassian was focused on not dying.
He grunted and grit his teeth. This was so stupid, he thought to himself. He was the General Commander of the Night Court. He led armies. He was built like a god.
So why the hell was he shaking like a newborn fawn?
Maybe this was some kind of humiliation ritual, a weird form of foreplay you enjoyed—watching your partners get broken down by this absurd torture you somehow found fun. Cassian had always suspected you were the freaky type. This could definitely be a sex thing, right?
“Doing okay over there?” Your voice drifted over from your mat, smug and far too amused. Cassian glanced at you—and immediately regretted it.
You were perfect. Every movement you made was controlled and precise, your form flawless as you transitioned into a side plank. Your leggings clung to every inch of your legs, your sports bra showing off the delicate curve of your back, and—Mother above, was that a bead of sweat sliding down your collarbone?
Cassian’s train of thought derailed so hard it might as well have exploded.
Which was exactly when his arm gave out.
He hit the mat with a loud, undignified thud, sprawled on his stomach like a dead fish. A chorus of muffled laughter erupted from the group of fae behind him, and he groaned into the mat. He couldn’t even bring himself to glare at them.
“Oh no,” you teased, resting on your side like you were lounging on a beach, not halfway through what had to be some kind of medieval punishment. “Looks like you fell.”
“This was a trap,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Your revenge for something.”
You laughed, and Cassian couldn’t decide if he loved or hated the sound at the current moment. A mix of both, perhaps.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to bathe in it. The only thing more pathetic than his lack of Pilates skills was his infuriating crush on you.
“You walked right into it. I didn’t even have to try that hard.”
He lifted his head to glare at you, his face flushed from both exertion and embarrassment. “You’re evil.”
“And you’re cocky,” you shot back, grinning. “I figured this was the only way to get you to tone it down.”
Cassian flopped onto his back, chest heaving, and stared at the ceiling. His wings spread out beneath him, sticking awkwardly to the mat, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.
“Oh, I know.”
You stood up then, brushing off your leggings, and offered him a hand. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes, but finally took it. Big mistake.
You tugged him halfway up—just enough for him to feel a spark of hope—before letting go. He dropped back to the mat with another thud, the air leaving his lungs in a loud huff.
You were laughing again, and despite himself, Cassian felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Okay,” he said, sitting up on his own this time. “You’ve had your fun.”
“Not yet.” You smirked. “We still have the second half of class.”
The second half. Cassian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll never live this down.”
You crouched beside him, tilting your head. “Oh, don’t worry,” you said sweetly. “I’ll be gentle when I remind you of it. Probably.”
Cassian laughed, then, even as his entire body ached. “You’re the worst,” he said. But his voice was full of something softer than annoyance.
“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s why I like you.”
For a moment, he forgot all about the embarrassment, the pain, and the endless torture of Pilates. For a moment, all he could see was you, smiling at him like he was the only person in the world.
And Cassian thought, then, that he’d endure this kind of hell a thousand times over if it meant another moment like this.
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authors note: im back baby!!! how is everyone doing? so so good i hope <3
pls send the best vibes and energy my way, i have sooo many wips i wanna jump into!! lemme know if theres anything specific y'all would like to see from me :)
